


Entiende La Sangre

by hariboo



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Bilingual, Body Horror, Gen, Psychological Horror, also partly in Spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie wakes up and swallows the scream in his throat. It's not his scream, so he doesn't mind it. He doesn't know who it belong to, but he can feel their fear and rage and their blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entiende La Sangre

**Author's Note:**

> The spanish isn't translated, sorry. I'll do that later, maybe. It's also not that great, super sorry. Unbeta'd, let's call this more of a writing exercise than fic.
> 
> Written pre 1x06.

Ella grita y grita y grita.

El único que la oye no la puede liberar. 

Ella grita y grita y grita. 

Las culebras ahora son parte de ella. Son su sangre son su corazón, son su espirito y poder. Todavía las odia. 

Ella grita y grita y grita.

Hay otro. El es diferente. El no ha oye, todavía, pero tiene algo. El no la oye todavía, pero el ve. 

El la puede ver.

Ella deja de gritar. Empieza a hablar. 

-

Richie wakes up. All he dreams about now are scream and snakes. all he thinks about lately is sangre-- blood. He took high school Spanish when he was too young for high school and he had thought he'd forgotten everything, but he remembers blood. 

Outside, it's raining. 

He misses Seth. He gets out of bed and goes to make eggs. He spills too much tabasco sauce on them after and it burns his tongue. He downs the milk he has, adds more tabasco, and repeats the process. 

Later, he won't understand why he did that. 

Even later, he'll realise he just wanted his mouth to burn.

-

Esta no es la lengua de ella. Esta es la lengua de Carlos. 

Carlos que la quiere tanto. Carlos se arrodilla y reza por ella. Carlos que chupa la sangre como un refresco y piensa comerla como le hace a la muchachas que coge y devora. 

Richie, ese es su nombre, no sabe lo que quiere hacer con ella. El no entiende todavía. 

Ella le enseña lo que necesita saber. Ella le enseña como Ver. Le enseña como entender la sangre. 

Sus pesadilla están llenas de culebras y ojos. 

-

Richie wakes up and swallows the scream in his throat. It's not his scream, so he doesn't mind it. He doesn't know who it belong to, but he can feel their fear and rage and their blood. Seth used to tell him to draw his dreams out when they bugged him, something he heard from some girl he was fucking who had some sort of dream journal. Seth broke up with the girl and broke her heart later, but not literally. Sometime Richie thinks about broken girls covered in snakes.

He opens his notebook and tries to figure out who was screaming with his mouth.

-

El ingles es una legua sin romance. Es dura y corta come un machete. Sabe doler, saber como sonar bella, es una legua de mentiroso. Le gusta.

El español esta lleno de romance. Decisivamente suave si no la entiendes, mata con un beso, como una flor llena de espinas. Seduce, y sabe come salir con la suya. Le encanta.

The language of her people was lyrical, truly beautiful, full of sounds this world ignores. It lives, in the cracks of the sand, in the soul of those that fight to keep it alive. It is considered dead, it is considered gone. That is a lie the English perpetrate. The Spanish were no better, hiding it in their romance. It's prayers condemned her. It's prayers transformed her. It holds power and glory and death. It holds life. It's her favourite. 

-

Richie wakes up and find himself standing over his sink, his hand red with sangre--blood. They are sticky with it, he even feels it under his fingernails, like it's seeping it's way inside him. The steam of water from the sink flows and hisses. He doesn't scrub the blood completely away. He stares at this hands and feels lips at his ears, licking secrets into him. 

He drags a hand across his face, forgetting the blood for second, only noticing it when it smudges his glasses. In the mirror his reflection looks like death, and not the nice old man with the scythe, but a death god, who clawed up from hell and grinned at what he found. When he presses his hand to the mirror he stares at the hand print it leaves behind. He thinks of Seth for some reason. He reaches out and drags his finger across the handprint. 

The phone rings.

Richie doesn't clean his hands as her goes to answer it.

It's Seth. He has a plan.

On the mirror theres a smudged eye drawn in the middle of a bloody hand. 

-

She laughs and laugh and laughs. 

It's her time now.

Freedom calls, blood calls louder.


End file.
